As the cold winter winds whipped
the snows around, the crowd gathered for the Sunday Mass. Dusting their feet off on the woven mat they
removed their gloves and blessed themselves with the holy water as they
prepared to enter the sanctuary.
Hustling and bustling to their seats the parishioners initially failed
to notice the frail old man as he entered the church. Quietly he waited for many to be seated as he
spotted a place near the Tabernacle of the Blessed Sacrament in which to
partake of Mass. Slowly being noticed and greeted with benign smiles he
gradually made his way to the pew and knelt to say his prayer and prepare for
the celebration which was about to ensue; the reception of Christ’s body.
Clang, clang, clang was the
sound of the bells as they were rung to announce the procession of the
celebrating ministry. Standing to greet
the crucifix as the altar server passed by with it, the devoted blessed
themselves and the Mass began.
Throughout the course of the Mass, the older gentleman was frequently
eyed as it was obvious that he had physical impairments. Some of the people talking and whispering
amongst themselves wondered why he even bothered to try to attend Mass as he
certainly would qualify for sacramental reception at home. Still others marveled at how he must not be
too bad off as he did manage to attend after all.
As the Mass progressed and
consecration was realized the contingent of parishioners began to stand within
their pews waiting to enter the line for reception of Holy Communion. One by one the rows emptied as the faithful
lined up for the reception of the Blessed Sacrament. After they all had received the celebrating
priest noticed the elder gentleman and motioned for him to also come
forward. The old man, struggling to
move, remained stationary in the pew, smiled at the priest and nodded yes. The priest continued to motion him to come
forward gesturing that he too was welcome to come forward and receive the
precious Body and Blood. Yet the old man just stayed in the pew smiling at the
priest. Finally a member of the church
body, an usher, went up to the man and asked, “Would you like to receive
Communion, sir?” “Yes” was the reply given in a weakened voice, “I would like
to receive the Body and Blood.” “Sir,” the usher continued, “the good father is
waiting for you to come to him but Mass is going to end soon. If you want to receive, you’d better get up
there.” The older gentleman looked at his trembling legs and hands and then up
at the usher, “Perhaps it would be easier on the priest if I just received in
spirit.” The usher nodded and looking up at the priest shook his head no. As
the priest passed in front of the elder, returning the remaining consecrated
hosts to the tabernacle, the man made the sign of the cross and shed a tear as
he uttered, “Amen.”
Back at the Altar the priest
informed the participants of the upcoming festivities at the church and the
prayers that were requested for the week. Finally bestowing a blessing on the
crowd he bid them farewell, “the Mass has ended, let us go in peace to love and
serve the Lord.”
Now with most Masses, after the
recessional, the priest remains for a bit to say hello to those as they leave
and this day was no different. Standing
at the rear of the church and full of animation he would chuckle and smile as
some would take his hand and comment on the homily, the upcoming football game,
or the need for more padding in the kneelers.
Yet the old man remained behind.
He waited in the pew as the church emptied. Ushers cleaning up the crumpled bulletins
noticed him and asked if there was a problem. “Do you think that the good
father would mind hearing my confession? I haven’t been feeling too well and it
would help me to sleep peacefully.” “Oh, I’m sorry old man,” said the usher, “reconciliation
was over with just before Mass, it’s much more convenient for the father that
way.” Chuckling slightly as he pointed
to the back of the church where a few were still talking to the priest he
continued, “perhaps if you hurry you can catch him and get a quick blessing for
a good night’s rest.” As he, the usher,
exited to the other side of the church the gent slumped down in the pew for a
few minutes and just held his head in his hands. Several moments seemed to pass before he got
up and started to make his way to the back of the church.
As the priest came up the center
aisle he smiled as the older sir paused to greet him. Resting one of his hands on the pews and
looking at it momentarily he extended his hand out hoping to shake the hand of
the priest as he walked by. But instead,
the cleric patted him on the shoulder and uttered, “take care, Fella.” The gentleman turned back around with great
sadness as the priest paused to pick up something from the floor and remarked,
“You seem to be eyeing that pew a lot, familiar with wood, sir?” “I am the son
of a carpenter,” he replied looking up at the priest with tear filled
eyes. “Well, my goodness, you don’t see too many carpenters around
anymore, craftsmanship is all but dead. But then, with the way life is now,
there doesn’t seem to be much need for them either.” “Yes, that is true,” said
the old man, “I can’t seem to find many fishermen either” as he made his way
slowly towards the vestibule.
Caught by the comment, the
priest watched the old man as he made his way.
“Sir, I don’t recall seeing you before, are you new to the parish?” The
man stopped in his tracks and turned
around, “Father,” he said, “I was here when the first rock was found,
you might
even say I discovered it. I was here when
there was rebellion and the church body rejected those they called
troublemakers and cast them aside. I was
there when the woman cried at the loss of her son. I was there when
very few who were close
showed for his funeral and his most trusted friends, denied him. I was
here when the Son rose. I was here when the first bricks of this
particular church were set. Perhaps a
few years ago you would have recognized me, but it is now when I am here
as I
am that you should know me best.”
The priest gazed at the old man
and noticed that he now seemed to be holding something in his hand, a circular
type of object. He said, “Are you sure I
don’t know you?” But the man remained silent and continued on his way out the
door, letting drop from his hands the rounded object. It came to rest on the threshold of the
door. Dumbfounded, the priest tried to
follow him but the man was gone.
The priest’s eyes filled with
tears as he looked at the object and bent down to pick up the spindled and
prickly phenomenon. Instantly he turned
around to look at the Altar and the large corpus crucifix that stood behind
it. Gasping, he noticed that from the
statuary body of Christ, the crown of thorns was missing; he was holding it in
his hands.
